


...And Counting

by kronette



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Romantic Fluff, flip - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: The crowd grew as the sun went down, laughter and cheerful greetings having the opposite effect on Hannibal and Will. They had been traveling since the first of December, enjoying the Christmas markets in six different cities in Europe. From Jena to Vienna, through Bad Wimpfen and Brasov, they had lost themselves in the colors, aromas and sounds of the season.  The tradition of the Christmas market went back hundreds of years, but for Hannibal and Will, it had started eighteen years ago.





	...And Counting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blaubeere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaubeere/gifts).



> Blaubeere asked for Christmas or the middle of winter, Hannigram is OTP, and emotional Hannibal and/or mischievous Will.   
> A walk in a Christkindlmarkt, an anniversary celebration and of course dogs all feature in this rather quiet piece. Happy #HannibalHoliday!

The air was crisp and cold, the bite taken away by the Glühwein Will and Hannibal sipped as they made their way along the tangle of festive stalls. Their foray onto the ice skating rink hours before had left them smiling, a friendly competition pitting Hannibal’s natural grace against Will’s strength ending in a tumble to the ice. Riotous laughter had quickly eased to slow kisses, warming their chilled lips and leaving them more breathless than their collision and subsequent fall.

The snow from the night before had been pushed to the side, leaving way for couples to stroll hand in hand between the vendors. With a squeeze to Hannibal’s hand and a quick peck to wine-warmed lips, Hannibal knew Will had spotted a stall specializing in hand-knit scarves and was going in search of presents for his staff. When Hannibal’s firm grip on Will’s hand lessened, Will knew he was distracted by a scent in the air and he watched fondly as Hannibal went in search of the spice, completely ignoring those around him. Such was the benefit of their long years together; their understanding of one another deepened to an unspoken language. 

The crowd grew as the sun went down, laughter and cheerful greetings having the opposite effect on Hannibal and Will. They had been traveling since the first of December, enjoying the Christmas markets in six different cities in Europe. From Jena to Vienna, through Bad Wimpfen and Brasov, they had lost themselves in the colors, aromas and sounds of the season. 

The tradition of the Christmas market went back hundreds of years, but for Hannibal and Will, it had started eighteen years ago. 

Months after their resurrection in the Atlantic Ocean and recuperation from their injuries, their conversations continued to be stilted and mostly one-sided. It was difficult for Will to talk or eat while his cheek healed and Hannibal was heavily medicated against infection in his gunshot wound. Neither were up for much conversation, both of them mentally fatigued and emotionally wounded. 

Hannibal hated that Will’s reticence had returned after he had given himself over to the beauty of the kill, but he didn’t know that Will’s distance was not because of his conscience. 

Will had accepted what he had done on that clifftop with Hannibal, had embraced it as he had embraced Hannibal, but staring out the other side of his decision to end both their lives, he couldn’t bring himself to take the next step forward.

Will was restless, not from their isolation or awkward silence, but from helplessness. He had stopped himself from kissing Hannibal—the ultimate surrender—at the top of the cliff. That decision haunted Will until he was almost mad with it. They had lived with the same pattern to their lives for months and Will vibrated with the need to _touch_. 

Two weeks before the end of the year, Hannibal had declared himself well enough to go into town with Will for their weekly supplies. A smattering of vendors had set up tents along the plaz for a small Christmas market and they eagerly viewed their wares. Will left Hannibal to sample the fried cheeses while he made a few discreet purchases. 

The pine and poinsettia centerpiece complemented the aromas of Hannibal’s cooking and Will lit the three red candles in the middle, giving the dinner table a warm glow. Doublechecking that Hannibal was preoccupied in the kitchen, Will hastily taped a mistletoe sprig above the door frame, wincing as he overstretched his healed shoulder. 

Dinner was the same quiet affair, though Will’s anticipation bled into the air, adding to his restlessness and piquing Hannibal’s interest. As soon as Hannibal finished his last bite, Will took both plates and headed into the kitchen, heart hammering wildly and wetting his lips in anticipation. When he turned around, Hannibal was standing in the doorway, watching him with a new light in his eyes. Or perhaps it was merely the old light rekindled, Hannibal’s eyes never leaving him as Will moved closer. Moisture glistened on Hannibal’s lower lip; he had either seen the mistletoe or sensed the change in Will and was anticipating the moment as well. 

Will flicked his gaze above their heads, leaving no doubt of his intentions. Hannibal slowly raised his eyes and lowered them to meet Will’s, the spicy musk that Will identified as uniquely _Hannibal_ intensifying, betraying his calm exterior. Nerves jangling and heart pounding, Will quickly brushed his lips against Hannibal’s, a light tease that left Hannibal leaning toward him. 

Will staggered under the onslaught of Hannibal’s kiss, snaking his arms around Hannibal’s neck as his body was pulled flush against Hannibal’s, leaving no air between them. Will expected nothing less than electric and all-consuming and Hannibal did not disappoint, stoking the fires of lust and heat…and relief. 

For the next three days, they talked between sessions of youthful making out, Will finally admitting what he’d wanted to do on the cliff and the months of anguish he had endured; Hannibal admitting to his own desires and hopes for their future in the most open conversation they had ever shared. 

On the fourth night, Christmas Eve, their bodies joined their minds and hearts in the final act of consummation, sliding against and inside each other until exhaustion claimed them, just as the light of a new dawn cracked the horizon. 

A new tradition had been born that night. 

For the first three weeks in December, they traveled across Europe to enjoy the Christmas markets, but they returned home a few days before Christmas Eve, to be spent in the warmth of their bed and in each other’s arms. 

Christmas was in two days and the Glockenspielplatz in Graz was their last stop. After being away from home for so long, Will was ready to hibernate for the winter, curled up with Hannibal in bed and in front of the fireplace. He read the same signs of homesickness in Hannibal and offered a tired smile, squeezing Hannibal’s hand when the smile was returned. 

Hannibal steered them toward the end of the row of stalls, breaking out of the crush of people and into the more open streets surrounding the platz. Their hotel was not far and as the sounds of merriment died away, the crunch of snow beneath their feet became audible. The last of the wine had been drunk and their cheeks were reddened from the alcohol, cold and wind, but nothing could dim the happiness that shone from their faces. 

They checked out of the hotel to catch the overnight train to Geneva, paying for a two person sleeping compartment but crowding into the bottom berth, unwilling to be parted for the long trip. 

Upon arrival in Geneva, they quickly bundled themselves into the car and drove to Vaud, stopping at the butchers and grocers to pick up their pre-orders, saving the most important stop for last: Animaux de la Deuxième Chance, Will’s animal shelter. 

Will immediately dropped to his knees to greet Gingersnap, her mangled paw not a hindrance as she leapt and yipped at him enthusiastically, slathering his face with dog kisses. The dachshund had been brought in six years ago as a hit and run victim and Will had instantly fallen in love. He’d been devastated when she’d been adopted out before he’d had the chance, only to find out that Hannibal had adopted her, hearing the anger and longing in Will’s voice whenever he spoke of the six-month-old puppy who had been left to die on the side of the road. 

Hannibal crouched down and held out his hand to Alexander, always wary of them when they returned from their yearly winter travels, despite years of Will’s patient training to socialize him. Rescued from a fighting ring, the Rottweiler was believed to be five years old, and when he’d been at the shelter seven months without being adopted out, Hannibal had insisted they take him in. 

Slowly, Alexander crept to Hannibal, his lone ear flopping backwards as he sniffed at Hannibal’s hand. A harsh choking sound—all he could manage with his damaged vocal cords—was his way of an affectionate greeting and Hannibal scratched at his head, murmuring softly in Lithuanian. 

Gingersnap butted her way between Hannibal and Alexander as she was always wont to do, and Will shifted over to cradle Alexander’s head and press their foreheads together. Will was just as gentle with Alexander as Hannibal had been, rubbing affectionately at Alexander’s head and back until the scarred face rested against his thigh. Hannibal accepted Gingersnap’s greeting with a patient grimace, keeping his lips together as she continually laved his face and neck. 

Will gathered the dogs' toys and other assorted paraphernalia while Hannibal spread the blanket across the back seat. Will picked up each dog and let them settle before securing the door and sliding into the passenger seat next to Hannibal. 

It was a short drive home and Will led the dogs inside while Hannibal began bringing in the luggage, groceries and purchases from their holiday. 

Will adjusted the temperature as the dogs sniffed around the rooms, once again vowing to install a smart thermostat that they could control from their phones so the house would be warm when they arrived home. He shivered as he took the bags from Hannibal and up the stairs to their bedroom, meeting Hannibal twice more before the car was empty. 

Will fed the dogs and lavished them with attention while Hannibal sorted their clothes for the laundry and put away their toiletries, the house finally warm enough for Will to take off his coat and scarf. 

By the time Hannibal made his way into the living room, Will was warmed throughout and covered with dog slobber. Seeing the change of clothes and shower-damp hair, a wicked grin spread across Will’s features. He made several attempts to kiss Hannibal, but was shoved toward the stairs with a pained grimace and an order to clean up. 

Standing under the warm spray, Will let the anticipation of the night ahead suffuse him. Bracing himself with one hand on the tiles, he teased himself open, wiggling until one soapy finger slipped inside. Groaning softly, he rested his forehead against the wall as he worked another fingertip inside, desperately needing it to be Hannibal, _now_. While they’d had plenty of sex on their holiday, they’d restricted it to mouths and hands, reserving the most intimate act for their celebration at home. 

Will knew that he was not alone in his need. Hannibal would have stood exactly where Will was standing and fingered himself just as Will was doing, mouth open and eyes closed, recalling that passionate night four weeks ago when they had simply melted into one another. 

The water started to turn cool, shivering Will out of his memories. He dressed for dinner, the blue button down a shade lighter than his jacket, and attempted to tame his short curls. Giving his reflection a rueful smile, he rubbed the towel over his hair again, tousling it to Hannibal’s liking. He turned down the bed before heading back downstairs, rolling his eyes affectionately at Hannibal’s preparations already on the nightstand, patiently awaiting use. 

The aromas from dinner wafted through the house and Will’s stomach rumbled for the home cooking he had been denied for 23 days. Sliding his arms around Hannibal’s waist, he pressed a kiss to Hannibal’s shoulder, disrupting the smooth stirring of the sauce for the flæskesteg. 

He hid his smile in Hannibal’s shoulder at the annoyed growl, offering an apologetic kiss to the side of Hannibal’s neck before extracting himself and getting the ingredients to make the Risalamande. They worked in quiet companionship, feeding each other samples for approval of taste or texture. 

Will put the rice pudding in the fridge to chill and went to set the table, leaving Hannibal to finish with the potatoes. He lit the two red candles flanking the stubby white one in the middle of the centerpiece, identical to the one he’d bought eighteen years ago, and stared at the remaining numbers at the base of the nearly burned down white candle. Hannibal had set it in the centerpiece their second year together, explaining that it was an anniversary candle and allowed it to burn down to the number ‘2’. 

It was cheating, Will had protested, as they were celebrating their first full year together, but Hannibal countered that they should be celebrating their fourth year as a compromise to the anniversary of the day they met minus the years they had spent apart. They’d ignored the candle’s flame as the argument grew heated, then transformed into an energetic, wild round of sex in front of the fireplace. When they had drowsily returned to the table to eat their cold meal, the candle had burned down five years and they had burst out laughing. 

They’d kept the tradition of burning one year away as they ate their anniversary dinner, this year down to 22, deciding that fate knew better than them how long they had been together. However, Hannibal always blew out the candle after the dessert dishes were cleared away, not wanting to tempt fate more than they already had. 

Will went into the living room to retrieve his present for Hannibal from his bag and set it on Hannibal’s plate. He had found the two ceramic stags in Salzburg, tastefully painted and incredibly detailed. The vendor had graciously wrapped it for him, so Will could keep it a secret from Hannibal. Will knew that his anniversary present would magically appear sometime before the first course was served, though he had yet to catch Hannibal in the act of placing it there. 

Leaving the white candle for Hannibal to light, Will started a fire in the great stone fireplace, placing the grate far enough away to keep the dogs from getting burned. 

Above the fireplace hung Hannibal’s framed sketch of a Dahlia, unveiled to Will on their fourteenth anniversary. The cuckoo clock Will had purchased in Hamelin hung in Hannibal’s study, a gift for their fifth anniversary, and the bookcase was full of silly and thoughtful gifts given throughout the years. The only exception was their twelfth anniversary, when Will had tracked down Gingersnap’s hit and run driver and Hannibal had roasted his organs for their anniversary meal. Gingersnap was their anniversary gift that year and Will had given her a slice of thigh meat as compensation for her injuries. 

Will walked over and crouched by the dogs’ beds, idly scratching at the sleeping Alexander’s head. A smile slowly spread across Will’s face as he noticed the dogs were asleep in the wrong beds. Hannibal had the blankets and beds embroidered with their names, and Alexander’s paw was covering the first two letters in Gigi. 

Hannibal’s insistence that Gingersnap be called ‘Gigi’ had been a constant source of teasing, his declaration that the color of a dog’s fur should not be the basis of a name countered by Will’s arch commentary on naming a dog after a king. Playful banter had led to playful kisses, soft touches and low groans, the embers of desire slowly growing until Will had found himself laid out over Hannibal’s desk, fingers buried in silvery-blond hair. The sharp tug on Will’s short curls spiked his desire and Hannibal’s office was left in a state of disarray, though in their sated state, neither cared about the mess. 

Will glanced at the desk and felt a slow beat of anticipation low in his gut. Eighteen years of learning each other’s bodies as well as they knew each other’s minds; it was an astounding feat, given the nature of their lives and the paths that had led to them being together. 

Will gave a start as the clock chimed 7:30, a remnant of their early life together that now signaled dinner was ready. Will took his place at Hannibal’s right, eyeing the small present on his plate. Hannibal had already moved his present above his place setting, so Will moved his as well, noting the lightness of the box. 

Hannibal had given up on presenting individual plates many years ago, so they shared plating the food. Hannibal carved the meat and Will spooned up the side dishes, the Rioja Gran Reserva already poured and waiting. The toast was simple yet heartfelt and Will wanted to chase the taste of the wine from Hannibal’s lips, but he lingered only a few seconds, parting slowly and smiling seductively at Hannibal’s half-lidded gaze. 

Will had to continually relinquish his knife as Hannibal’s fingers ghosted along his own, tangling briefly before they resumed eating. Each touch brought another wave of desire until Will could barely taste the exquisite food, slowly losing himself to the arousal swirling around them. 

Will stared as Hannibal raised their joined hands to press a kiss to Will’s knuckles, an old-fashioned gesture that had Will smiling. Hannibal’s smile was easy and the flickering candlelight deepened the lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth, such a contrast to the small, reserved smiles from their early relationship. 

By the time Hannibal brought dessert, Will’s chest was tight with emotion and his body ached to be held and caressed and loved. He knew Hannibal could smell his arousal, but Hannibal’s control had always been just that much better than Will’s and they finished dessert with their hands clasped tightly together, thumbs rubbing skin in sensuous movements. 

Will took back the dessert plates in a fog of arousal, his tongue thick with the taste and breath short in anticipation. When hands slid over his hips and pulled him back to lean on Hannibal, he groaned softly and closed his eyes, giving himself over to his emotions. He turned around when urged, parted his lips as fingers gently tilted his chin up and clasped at Hannibal’s shoulders as a tongue slipped between his lips, encouraging him to sink further into his desire. 

Will wasn’t consciously aware of how they made it upstairs to the bedroom, only that Hannibal’s hands had guided him every step of the way, his mouth relentless in its dominance. Despite the now urgent need singing in their veins, Will’s suit was carefully stripped from him, lovingly exposing every patch of skin to Hannibal’s appreciative lips. When fingertips trailed along Will’s sides, he squirmed and giggled, laughing harder as Hannibal kissed the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. 

“You’re crazy,” Will sighed as he threaded his fingers through Hannibal’s silver hair, only a few strands of blond and brunet remaining. 

“For you, always,” Hannibal replied softly, smoothing his hands down Will’s back to cup his ass. 

Will hummed his approval and walked them backwards towards the bed, eyes never leaving Hannibal’s. He slid Hannibal’s tie from around his neck, letting it cascade to the floor. The rest of Hannibal’s suit slowly followed, Will pressing his mouth to skin as it was revealed. 

The thrum of arousal had been building all evening, but even as it set their pulses racing, they maintained a slow, easy pace, wanting to appreciate every second of their time together. 

Hannibal lowered Will to the bed, fluttering kisses down Will’s throat as his fingers tangled in Will’s silver-streaked hair. 

Will’s hands made long strokes down Hannibal’s back and sides, briefly massaging Hannibal’s ass as his mouth sought Hannibal’s. They kissed gently, then deeply, light teases interspersed with the increasing need to be joined together. 

“I love you,” Hannibal murmured into the kiss, tears standing in his eyes.

“I love you,” Will replied softly, hearing the tremble in his own voice, betraying how deeply he felt. 

Will shifted to get more comfortable beneath Hannibal, sliding his leg up the back of Hannibal’s legs to hook it around Hannibal’s waist. His preparation was as unhurried as the path to them lying in bed together that evening, Hannibal knowing exactly where to press and how to open him up, and how to make him crazy with lust. 

“Now. Please,” Will begged, tightening his legs around Hannibal’s waist as Hannibal mercilessly teased him, sliding past but not penetrating him. His fingers gripped at Hannibal’s shoulders, his eyes pleading, desperation now clawing at his chest. 

And suddenly they were joined, the breath catching in Will’s chest at the intimate connection. Hannibal’s long, slow strokes brought tears to Will’s eyes as he slowly came apart beneath Hannibal’s loving embrace. 

Will grasped Hannibal’s face and showered it with kisses, burning up with the heat building between their bodies. Will could feel his climax teasing at the edge of his senses and nipped at Hannibal’s lower lip, soothing it with his tongue. 

Hannibal retaliated with a filthy, wet kiss and a strong thrust, rocking Will’s entire body and sending shockwaves through them both. Will raked his fingernails along Hannibal’s shoulders and back, sinking his teeth into Hannibal’s earlobe as he whispered for Hannibal to let go. 

Hannibal couldn’t hold back with Will’s assault on his senses and came buried to the hilt, face pressed to Will’s neck, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. 

Will calmed him, soothing hands up the sweat-slicked back to rest at the back of Hannibal’s neck, grounding him. “I love you, Hannibal,” he murmured, nuzzling Hannibal’s cheek and hair until the shaking subsided. “Let me show you how much I love you.” 

Hannibal sucked lightly at Will’s neck, fingers tightening in Will’s hair. “You do that every day simply by being you,” he protested weakly, though accepted the rearrangement of their bodies to lie on their sides, Will spooning Hannibal. 

Will kissed delicately along Hannibal’s shoulders, occasionally flicking his tongue against the salty skin while his fingers prepared Hannibal. As slow and teasing as Hannibal had been with him, Will tested the limits of his control just to hear the quiet sighs that Hannibal entrusted only him to hear. 

When Will could bear it no longer, he pressed inside, arms wrapping around Hannibal’s chest and holding him close as Will savored the other side of their intimacy. Slow and easy, feeling the hitches to Hannibal’s breathing beneath his hands, Will lost himself in the sensuality of their lovemaking, Hannibal’s spicy musk permeating his very being. 

Far too soon, his body’s demands tipped Will over the edge and he clung to Hannibal through his orgasm, open mouth pressed against Hannibal’s neck as his breath gusted over Hannibal’s skin. 

When his heart was no longer pounding in his throat, Will dragged his nose through Hannibal’s damp hair, inhaling the combination of shampoo and sweat. He returned the hard squeeze to his hand weakly, slotting their fingers together properly and resting them back on Hannibal’s chest. 

Will felt the rumble beneath their clasped hands as Hannibal asked, “Do you want coffee?” Hannibal’s polite way of saying he wanted to clean up. 

With a last kiss to Hannibal’s neck, Will disentangled them, watching with interest as Hannibal walked naked into the en suite bathroom. Humming in contentment, Will stretched his overworked muscles and pulled on his underwear and robe, using the bathroom in the other bedroom to take a leisurely, hot shower. 

When Will returned to their bedroom, he stopped to smirk in the doorway. Hannibal had returned with coffee and their presents from the dining room table, but he was sitting in bed in just his pajama bottoms, offering a tantalizing view of his chest. 

“Trying to seduce me again so soon?” Will quipped saucily as he climbed carefully into bed, accepting the steaming cup of coffee Hannibal offered him. 

“Would you,” Hannibal brushed a light kiss to the side of his neck, “like that?” 

With Hannibal’s breath against his skin and body heat so close to his own, Will grew dizzy. Eyes drifting closed, Will breathed, “You know I would.” Even though it was far too soon for round two, Will felt the stirrings of desire coil through his veins. Before he could act on it, his hand was turned palm up and a small box placed there. 

Hannibal’s voice was pure wickedness as he teased, “Hold that thought. We should open our presents first.” 

“You’re just anxious to see what I got you,” Will replied petulantly, offering up his best pout. 

The pout got Will’s desired effect; Hannibal kissed it away, sharing the taste of coffee. “I know you’re just as anxious to see what I got you,” Hannibal countered, utterly failing to hide his pleased smile. 

With a roll of his eyes, Will put his coffee on the nightstand and waited for Hannibal to open his gift first. The softening of Hannibal’s eyes told him his gift was appreciated, not just for its aesthetic beauty, but the meaning behind the stag. Neither of them forgot the dreams Will used to have, so early in their acquaintance, of a stag following him. Now that stag had caught him and they’d had eighteen wonderful years together. 

Will returned the gentle kiss Hannibal bestowed on him and lifted the lid on his small box. Inside were cufflinks set with a stunning aquamarine gem that shifted color as he turned them toward the light. 

“Alexandrite, a variety of Chrysoberyl,” Hannibal explained. “It can change color from greenish blue, yellow-green, pink or even red, depending on the light source. A singular gem worthy of encapsulating how unpredictable you are, Will.” Tears stung Will’s eyes as Hannibal brushed the curls from his forehead to place a gentle kiss there. “How rare.” Hannibal’s lips drifted down Will’s nose, tears slipping from beneath Will’s closed eyes at the reverent way Hannibal was touching him. “How exceptional.” 

Will met Hannibal’s lips with his trembling ones, sliding his hand along Hannibal’s neck to hold him close. “And yet, such a precious gem cannot convey how much you have enriched my life.” Their foreheads touched, Will just able to see the wet trails on Hannibal’s cheeks. As he spoke, Hannibal’s accent thickened and his voice broke over the words he had clearly thought about for a long time. “I was content in my solitude, accepting that I would never find a kindred spirit and would spend the rest of my days alone. Then you walked into Jack Crawford’s office and destroyed my idea of contentment. Never have I been more grateful for being wrong in my assumptions. I did not truly know what it meant to love someone until I fell in love with you. I cannot imagine my life without you.” 

Will was openly crying now, so moved by Hannibal’s words that he could only kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until they were breathless and their swollen lips began to chafe. “Stay right there,” Will instructed, continuing to press kisses to Hannibal’s lips, even as his body shifted to move off the bed. “Don’t move!” 

Will raced downstairs to get the box out of his bag, hurrying back up the steps and diving back into bed, kissing Hannibal again. “The stags were a secondary gift. This is your present.” Will handed the long, flat box to Hannibal. “I wanted to get it before you had the thought to.” 

Will watched as Hannibal’s slightly trembling fingers opened the box, then dropped the lid onto the bed. As Hannibal removed the tall, white candle, Will explained, “For when we finally reach the end of our candle,” indicating the number ‘1’. “We can start again and light it properly this time, one year for one year.”

For all of Hannibal’s eloquent words just moments ago, he was speechless. Will could see how affected Hannibal was by his gift and gladly succumbed to the renewed fervor of their kissing. 

Presents and boxes were ignored as their bodies came together again, slow rolls of their hips building to gentle orgasms, declarations of love murmured in their shared breaths. 

Curled together in their bed on their eighteen anniversary on Christmas Eve, they drowsed amid light touches and kisses, staying awake to greet the new dawn; the first day of their nineteenth year together.

The End


End file.
